Familiar and Intoxicating
by DemigodsRule
Summary: I just finished reading the Blue Bloods spin off novel "Bloody Valentine." the book featured Allegra in her teen years as well as Charles. My story seems kind of vague because I based off myself more than anything, but I feel like it's relatable to the relationship between Allegra and Charles. So I hope you enjoy and if not thats cool too.(:


Against her better judgment, she decided to give him a second chance; not at her heart of course, but perhaps something simple like friendship. Her body knew this attempt was all in vain. She couldn't resist him; his touch, his sensation, his warmth. Her body had all this insight and refused to share it with her mind. She seemed to torture herself in that way sometimes. Her body knew things her mind didn't and liked to keep it that way.

She heard the doorbell ring, every nerve in her body on edge. "Well here goes nothing," she thought to herself while plastering an awkward smile upon her face. She opened the door and he greeted her with his usual innocence, she knew was all one big carefully crafted façade. She smiled that hideous misshapen smile and showed him inside. Like always, they tried to make small talk and shoot the breeze, but soon things became stale and worthless. She liked to think of meaningless conversation as worthless because it never really got you anywhere. All it did was eat up the space between groups of people, suffocating them all with its nothingness. To her, this was absolute torture. She liked to get straight to the tough questions; the meat and potatoes, but sadly today there were no unanswered questions. Her body, mind, and heart were all waging against what she knew was right, attacking it and watching it decay. Damn those fickle emotions of hers, they were what had gotten her into this situation.

She had loved him one day and the next he seemed meaningless. How cruel and sick of a human being to squeeze someone's heart like that. She knew that even the days when she didn't "love" him, she still couldn't exist without him. It could be an addiction to that sense of normalcy or perhaps something less than love, but greater than infatuation. She cared for him regardless of whatever misshapen relationship the two of them had convinced themselves they had had. She would never stop caring for him that much her heart, body, mind, and soul could agree on. Another reason for the abrupt end was her loyalties. She had always had a problem with picking sides when it came to friends and this was no different. Her friends didn't like him so in spite of herself and all that she felt. She talked about him behind his back and denied all feelings of emotion towards him. She even was ashamed of him in public. She never wanted to kiss or even the simple act of holding hands. "He sacrificed so much for me, "she reflected to herself. He really had. He had been rejected by friends, family, and bitterly laughed at; all for the sake of love. He was so in love with her, even though most of it was illusion, she felt the sincerity in every action he took towards her, even the way he spoke. He spoke and touched her with such tenderness and she had never felt before. This feeling of kindness and love was one she was not at all accustomed to.

Not for the first time that evening, she had begun to question her sanity. Her heart was leaping. She was becoming more and more flushed with every inch he drew nearer to her. Before she knew it, his warm soft fingers were tracing lines on her hands then her face. His index finger was under her chin and forcing her head upward. She was forced to look him in the eyes. "Tell me you don't love me…"he breathed sleepily in that all too sexy voice of his. His eyes were drowsy looking. He looked sleepy and deep in thought, his cheeks were flushed. She admired the shape of his face and coveted the length of his eyelashes. She loved the small splash of freckles across his cheeks. She swallowed hard and found with difficulty she could not say the words which she had practiced countless times in front of the mirror. Why couldn't she do it? Wasn't this the great truth that needed to be spoken, rather than texted? "I don't love you anymore" the phrase seemed a million miles away. He leaned in and she braced herself, involuntarily shutting her eyes. He chuckled softly to himself. "What?!" she said boldly and angrily despite the deep flush she felt. "You have that look…the one that says…" he leaned in, "kiss me." And he kissed her. It was soft and gentle, tender and loving in nature. It felt like their first kiss; warm and experimental. Then it moved into something much deeper. He pressed his body into hers and caressed her face with his hand. The kiss became harder. He pulled out momentarily to look into her eyes and touch her cheeks then he resumed the kiss, his tongue searching. Her mind was screaming, pleading that she stop. She knew that she was only falsifying his hopes, this atrocity was not love! It was merely a desire for normalcy mixed with blind denial of the change that was coming. He couldn't have her as his own and this was his way of coping. What a sick delusion. How could she let him think she loved him back. And yet, love was in her actions as well; clearly evident in the way she stared in his eyes and gently kissed his neck up and down, nibbling along the way. Then he did something that surprised her and nearly brought tears to her eyes: he held her hand as he shifted their position so that he was on top as they lay together on the couch.

She moaned involuntarily, feeling his body respond in happiness. It was like drowning, yet enjoyable. She knew she should stop this before it escalated too far, but it felt too damn good. His breath, his hair falling gently on her face, his chocolate brown eyes; it was all too familiar and intoxicating.


End file.
